The Fever You Can't Sweat Out
by carved in the sand
Summary: I can feel you melting out of your skin, darling - sasusaku


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She's pressed up against the refrigerator, water bottle slipping from her hand to smack the floor loudly, not in the least interrupting their kiss. His kiss. Yet it doesn't take her long to pull at the material of his shirt and become a willing participant.

His arms are steady at either side of her head, entrapping her, but he knows she could break them both at a moment's notice, and she knows this as well, so maybe she's proving him right

His lips aren't soft or warm, but chapped and rough and very, very _hot_, everything he wasn't supposed to be from her twelve-year-old dreams, and maybe from a few fantasies of her own. They're still a mess of teeth and lips and tongue, the air around them filled with electricity.

Sasuke's hands move from the refrigerator to her hips, pulling her closer, so that she is flush against him, and his knees are pressing into her thighs awkwardly, but she's too engrossed in his lips.

Sakura's skin is burning, flushed with heat, but his lips are hotter and searing unsaid words onto her own, and it's become too easy for her to wrap her arms around his neck and sink into him.

_This_. She could get used to this. She could fall into bed with this and wake up to this every morning and live with this and _she could love this._ This extra special, unnameable _thing_ that's right at the tip of her tongue and he's already trying to swallow it whole, pressed against that refrigerator.

Or maybe it's in her heart, pounding out a rhythm almost identical to his, their heartbeats trying to communicate in a language too instinctual for their ears to understand.

They part for air, and he's breathing much more heavily than her, noting this with a smirk. Sasuke suddenly leans down further and grasps her lower thighs, hiking her up to waist level so that her head is an inch above his.

He's looking into her iridescent eyes with that half-lidded, extra-special thing lighting up a switch in his face, because Sakura's never remembered seeing him look this vulnerable, close.

She feel _so close_.

Their foreheads press together, sharing the same air that's gone very, very thin in the span of a few minutes, not helping the half-grin pulling at the left side of her mouth. There's too much of a deliberate passion to it, as if he's trying to convey thing that won't spill from his mouth, so he's trying to spill them into her's.

The smirk that adorns his face almost matches, but not quit, not as innocent.

Sakura feels like she's been set ablaze, but it's sinking into her blood this time, like a sickness, but good, feverishly so. And she doesn't want to sweat it out, doesn't want the air back because Sasuke is_so close_ and it's _so much_ better than oxygen.

He take her lower lip between his teeth, feverently, and her blood begins to boil something fierce in her veins, their lips crashing together again.

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The sun hasn't yet crept up onto the horizon, as he stares at the pink hair and pale limbs still tangled in the dark blue sheets. Sasuke sighs, sitting up and watching her.

"I'm going to destroy your home and kill everyone you love," Sasuke murmured aloud, half-wishing she could hear him and ask him what the hell was he talking about and maybe crack his skull in, because his death was still a plausible option. "I'm going to kill Naruto. I'm going to kill you."

His words make him taste a sourness on his tongue, stomach clenching and twisting in unhealthy ways.

Sasuke lays back down, still feeling sick and anxious and disgusted because it's already falling apart - _he can't kill her_, he won't kill her - and falling at her feet, because she's successfully wrapped him around her finger and it's all a warped mess inside his head.

A lock of hair falls from the side of her face to her face and over her nose, and automatically, he reaches out to brush it away, but he freezes, pauses, cursing himself as he reluctantly retracts his arm and continues to stare at her.

This is not the life he should be living, because he is an actor, acting out this life of peace and freedom under the secret government that ruined his life from the very beginning, and it's so goddamned unfair to him, the anger, sweet and familiar and burning up his skin - that he just wants to burn down his village.

He wants Sakura, he _can't_ have Sakura, and it's splintering, everything's cracking and crumbling and falling apart. Sasuke's hot and feverish with this want of his, trying to swallow him whole, and this fever is vicious and flesh-eating.


End file.
